


HoarFrost Hel

by took_skye



Series: Fire & Ice [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Children, Collars, Dysfunctional Family, Elves, False Identity, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Ljósálfar | Light lves (Norse Religion & Lore), Loki (Marvel)'s Punishments, Magic, Memory Loss, Mjolnir - Freeform, Multi, Mutant Powers, Mutants, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Punishment, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Shapeshifting, Sibling Love, Slave Trade, Slavery, Snakes, Threats of Violence, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17361242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: Upon his capture and return to Asgard after his failed attempt to take over Midgard Loki continues to cause problems. Fed up with his behavior Odin strips him of everything, including his freedom, and banishes him to slavery. Now the once Prince of Asgard must navigate a world of constant danger with just his wits and the help of a serpentine slave woman.(Sequel toFrostBitten)





	1. Enslaved

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy - the first is [FrostBitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881492/chapters/39647403). The story on whole will be very dark, this piece itself has torturing of Loki based on the [Loki Bound myth](https://norse-mythology.org/tales/loki-bound/).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy - the first is [FrostBitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881492/chapters/39647403). The story on whole will be very dark, this piece itself has torturing of Loki based on the [Loki Bound myth](https://norse-mythology.org/tales/loki-bound/).

“Well, in fairness, it’s not as if you truly keep those cells guarded as they should be,” Loki chuckles out, finding his fifth escape as delightful as his first. It isn’t even about getting away anymore - Heimdall will always find him - it’s merely about the challenge. About slipping through the latest security measure. About making fools of the guards…making a fool of the man once thought his father. In proving, for all his claims of power, Odin could not keep his stolen relic tucked away.

“You find amusement in this?” Odin growls atop his throne, looking down on the other in every way.

“I find amusement in many things.”

“You shame your family.”

“You are not my family.”

“Then I’ve no reason to hold you here, under my protection.”

Loki gives a derisive snort. “What protection? That of the cell I’m left to rot in?”

“Perhaps I should treat you as any other.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than how you treat me now.”

“Very well, Loki…” It’s the stability of his voice, the calmness of his words, that alerts all to the trouble coming. “Son of no one, prince of nothing…” His tone and language change and, like the rest, Loki only knows there’s a spell being cast.

The muzzle returns first. Tight, near choking, disallowing speech or even clearing of the throat as it depresses tongue and fills mouth. Collar thins and silvers as jewels begin to line its center. It presses Loki to kneel from the inside out, weakens joints in its force, until knees buckle and collar fires up his nerves in scolding. Eyes close in focus as he searches for a way to combat the circumstances, but the barrage of pressure and punishment continue until Loki must throw hand out to prevent hitting the floor in full.

Loki knows what this is now and makes effort to glare up at the king. To fuel disobedience via rage as the collar continues to punish, knowing his deepest, darkest, thoughts against the king. Against his current master. Shoes fade, rags replace the comfort of clothing, and soon Loki is forced to prostrate as any prisoner or slave before one that is above them.

“Now there is only Loptr. Air. Air has no need of words or crowns or family. Air is nothing until it is someone’s, is it not?” Loki catches glimpse of apathetic Allfather before collar forces head back down. “So you shall be from this moment forth. And, to me, to this family, to this realm, you are poisoned air with a foul stench…wholly unwelcome.” A hand flicks as if Loki were an unpleasant thing in the wind. “Take him away, I do not wish to see him again.”

He refuses the guards or himself a moment’s calm, struggling in their arms, slipping out only for the collar’s shocks to drop him in the dirt. Coming upon the jagged rocks, the serpent hung high overhead, he goes from rebellious to panicked. Gags on a mix of muzzle and screams, risks vomiting in the vigor of it, before he’s thrown face first into the boulders. Loki feels the skin above his eye split, seeks out a loophole to heal, but finds none. Instead his efforts only bring him punishing shocks of pain direct to the wound. He retches as he’s grabbed, manhandled, and spread below the snake by shackles. What’s initially a hard, defiant, warning look softens into pleading as the guards leave.

Muzzle fades and Loki demands to be released. He ignores the pressure on his throat, the magic trying to silence his words (slaves do not order), and carries on so that all nearby may hear him. No one comes. He calls in vain and, even with nothing to stop his mouth, the collar stops his magic. Loki is left with the ability to call out, the room to wriggle and writhe, to struggle, but neither strength nor Seiðr to escape.

A sudden burst of fire hits open gash on his temple and Loki wails in it. Arches high, twists in tears of desperation, as venom boils blood and skin both to blackness. The god feels his own flesh rot, smells it, before giving another cry as the venom again burns above his brow. Loki roars curses to all he can think of - snake, Avengers, Midgard, Asgard, his brother, his father - despite shocks that turn his neck raw outside and in. The only one he spares is his mother, but as muscles in throat twitch constant pain, as venom burns eye out its socket leaving him blinded, even she is not safe from his hatred.

An act that starts in pained rage continues to desperate reminder he’s alive until he wishes his own destruction and death first. “…L’ki…Od’n…” his lips stick in blood, in the death of tissue and raw pain, but he continues. If he stops, he’s certain he’ll die. “…’S’gar’…Th’r…”

“Loki!” The response shocks a struggle and resulting yelp before hand settles on clearer side of his face. “Loki, brother, be still…” Thor’s voice shakes in a panic of his own. He’d been out, not been told, but came immediately when he discovered what their father has done. “I will free you.”

“N-no…” breaths come in winces “…can’t.”

“I do not care what father proclaims, you are my brother and I’ll not allow this suffering!”

That isn’t what Loki meant and what he did is revealed only moments after Thor crashes Mjölnir down upon a length of chain. The rocks and ground underneath shatter, embed bits and pieces into Loki’s flesh, as the electricity of the thunder god fires throughout metal links and still-entrapped body.

The former prince and god feels himself blessed by the surge of blackness that follows…Perhaps he will go to Hel and it will be done…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Thor…you tried, bless you, haha! You may well discover what Frigga thinks/feels/does with this news as well and “meet” the snake properly. I can assure you it will not ALL be terrible torture of Loki, but there will be a fair amount of it so be prepared. Any feedback/thoughts/suggestions would be much appreciated. :D
> 
> The concept of the collar Loki wears (a thrall collar) comes from the works of [EndlessStairway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway).


	2. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has torturing of Loki based on the [Loki Bound myth](https://norse-mythology.org/tales/loki-bound/).

The peace of darkness does not last for Loki as he awakes in the same position as he fell unconscious. Instinct causes a leap from the burning venom he knows is coming, but chains hold him to the ground even as muscles strain. They crackle, shudder with his body, as he doubles efforts.

“Shhh, Loki, be still,” Thor soothes from above and he goes stock still, even stops his breath. “No, um, I mean…” orders can be taken so literally by thrall collars. “Please breathe…And just…relax, brother, if you can. I’ve got you. Do you understand?”

Rough air vibrates raw throat in response.

“Mother sent a healer, he did all he could before father interceded. Now they argue so the whole of Asgard can hear it. She warns him of terrible things should he continue down this path, I half suspect them threats.” Thor breaths a laugh, hoping Loki will join him, but there’s only another groan. “Your eye is healed.”

As if it reminds him they exist, Loki opens both cautiously. Thor kneels above, over, him with bowl held high. “Wha-What are you…doing?”

“I tried to kill the beast, it will not die.” He shifts fingers, adjusts. “But I’ll not allow you to suffer so long as I’m able.”

Venom plinks into the bowl, Loki understands. “I could be here ‘til Ragnarök.”

“Then we shall experience the end together.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything…” he huffs out. “Jus-Just tell fa-” the collar shocks, Loki hisses. He’s been disowned, for him Odin is Father no more. “Tell Odin…Tell him…I-I’m sorry.” Perhaps that’s all that’ll be needed; for Loki to come meek and apologetic and subservient before the great King of Asgard. That and their mother’s words; she could always bring Father to heel when it came to her boys.

Thor only frowns, knowing it’ll fall on deaf ears just as his own words had. Just as their mother’s seem to. Odin’s determined not only to punish Loki, but to erase him entirely…bit by venomous bit. “I tried to cut the serpent down, but still it clings,” he changes the subject, gives them a distraction. “I wonder if it’s not also bewitched. Can you tell?”

The once-sorcerer merely shakes his head. “I’ve no way to. My abilities are stopped by the collar.”

“Perhaps if I order you?” Thor offers; the other shrugs and Thor takes it as encouragement. “Loki, I order you, use your magics to determine what keeps this serpent up and alive.”

Loki only needs a moment to see their grave mistake. The collar obligates him to be submissive, obedient, to all those above him…but Thor is not his master, whose orders supersede all but the collar’s itself, and so Loki cannot access his magic to obey this order. The collar fights itself across his neck and mind. It shocks and burns, chokes and seems to twist Loki from within.

Thor startles at his brother’s wail and drops the bowl. “No!” He flies across his brother, lets venom burn upon the back of his own neck. “No no no, stop it!” He yells in general, but the collar takes it upon itself to further punish Loki. “Stop, I rescind it! I rescind this order!”

Collar calms, Loki with it. “You…cannot…order me.” Another shock, a grunt, then correction. “I cannot…follow orders above…his.” Loki holds breath, but the collar accepts the response.

Bowl back in hand Thor rights himself, sets bowl over his brother’s head once more. “I am sorry, brother.”

“You should not stay here, Thor. Your father will be cross.”

“Then let him be so.”

* * * 

For six days and six nights Thor stays by his brother’s side. He refuses all that Loki is refused, including rich foods and new clothing. When guards come to collect him under Odin’s orders, he holds them off. When the Warriors Three come, he denies their offer to train. When Sif comes, he bids her away. When Loki drifts off he stays up, whispers to the snake his apologies at his attempt to destroy it if it is, in fact, as bewitched as his brother is now.

When Thor himself slumbers - always over his brother, arm across the other’s face so his own armor and arm will take the venom - Frigga’s image visits her son. She cannot undo what the Allfather has done, but she hums ancient lullabies to soothe and assure her son this will not be his ultimate fate. That he will always be her child. That she has and will always love him.

* * * 

At daybreak of the seventh morning Loki wakes to sizzling skin. “Brother?!” He shifts away, tries to protect eye against the dripping venom. “THOR!!” He calls for his brother, seeks him out in his surroundings, but Thor’s no longer there. There are only soldiers of Asgard and those Loki recognizes as slave traders. “No…no no no…No! NO!! THOR!!”

Thor does not come. Frigga either. No one comes as men set to freeing him from one set of shackles only to put him into another. This time, shocks and burns be damned, Loki fights. He succeeds in lifting one of their knives to slice open the femoral of one before stabbing another. Both collar and guards combined crack him to the floor; no respect of the former prince now…muzzle crammed into mouth, hands caged behind, they throw him into a crate and then the ship with the rest.

Through slits in the cargo-hold he watches men surround the snake as it unfurls itself, shifts to form limbs, hair, and dress patterned as serpent skin had been. The spotted silver ring at the start of its neck is now a thrall collar like his own. There remains something serpentine in the woman’s golden eyes, in the way hips sway as she approaches ship. She curls beside him on the floor and works jaw out of its soreness as she’s left free to roam.

He looks up at her the best he can, curiosity mixing into his disbelief. How can she be so calm? How can she be so demure, obedient? Has she no sense of honor or pride? Where’s her fight? Her sense of dignity?

“If you continue to fight, things will only get worse.” She speaks politely, though sternly for a slave speaking to a once-king, still god. Loki’s eyes narrow, he growls his debate, to which she smiles faintly down into his cage. “You are not a prince anymore, you’ve no power except what you may earn as a thrall…and you’ll never earn it fighting your masters.” She gives a sigh both disappointed and sympathetic as she turns head from him to window. “I truly wish your brother had not ordered me to look after you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn’t let Loki go quietly, that’s not in his nature at all, am I right? ...But, of course, this will likely lead him to great troubles in the future, haha! You’ll learn more about the snake-woman as things go on, but for now keep in mind that Thor ordered her to look after Loki when she was a snake and that order holds at least until she gets a new master. And where is Thor? Not telling, haha! ;-)


	3. Commandeered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What are you?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts Ulfr’s - my Jotun!OC also from [FrostBitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881492/chapters/39647403) \- story. All translations, which come from Tolkien writings, are at the end.

Ulfr lets go before they ever reach Asgardian territory; takes the risk of the abyss rather than the surety of enemy hands. There is a strangeness in the fall, he flies fast from Heimdall’s pull, then slows to a weightless swim. One that seems to last forever, reeking of gasoline and burning flesh, before he feels the familiar twist in his gut that signals what he needs. A portal. He does his best to float over, but it’s in kicking off a passing blue and gold M-ship that Ulfr makes any headway. Gets close enough that gravity takes over to suck him in, through.

Things speed up once more, the swirl of energy tossing him about until his head spins. He closes eyes, prays to the gods that this portal will not be like the last. That this one will be bring him peace, adventure, and above all, safety. Only when the pull of the vortex stops, when he feels himself falling due to pure gravity, does Ulfr open his eyes. The sky above is pure blue with silver clouds, trees hit him with sturdy wood and vibrant leaves, and the earth strikes hard, but ultimately gives way under him. He lays still, shifting in and out of his Jotun-self to test and heal his body. He only stops seeing his frost creeping across fresh lands.

Prince Draugluin feels the earth shake, a chill run through the air and then his bones. His horse threatens to throw him and he must put force behind the reins to steady the creature. They both sense something foreign in their lands, something to be wary of. “What was that?” He turns sharp to his page, who merely shrugs.

“I don’t know, mi’lord.”

“Then perhaps you should find out,” he glares. Idiot servants, they need to be told everything plain and even then they hesitate like this one. “Well? GO!!” He roars and the young boy dashes.

He wanders aimlessly, only picking the direction of ‘away’, until he feels sudden, bitter, freeze. Even the most brutal of Álfheimr winters were not so cold and the boy began to huddle into himself for warmth and security as he pressed on. By the time he finds the frosted crater Draugluin’s barking out to him. Has he found anything? Where is he? Answer! But he can’t find his voice as he stands before a blue giant with finger to its lips.

“I won’t hurt you,” Ulfr assures as he shifts into an appearance closer to the other. Humanoid form, white marble skin, with slightly pointed ears. He knows where he is now, there should be little risk here. “What’s your name, little elf?” Only a squeak comes from the lad and he chuckles. “I’m Ulfr.”

There’s another moment's hesitation before he mutters. “Virtion.”

“Lazy, stupid, boy!” The Prince storms upon them, riding crop at the ready. “When I call for you, you answer me, understood?!” He raises hand high and the boy flinches, but the strike never comes. A hand stops it: bone-breakingly strong as it burns with cold. “What sorcery…?!” The thing before him is a horror-show reflection with ruby eyes and skin lined in moonstone. 

“Most would think the Ljósálfar above it…” Ulfr smirks, yanks the prince from atop his horse to the ground. “It’s almost comforting to know it’s the same everywhere.”

“I am Prince Draugluin, son of Aranwë, ruler of this realm!”

“Always those above beating those beneath them further down, always the masters cruel to the meek.”

“What are you?!” Draugluin half commands, half begs, as he kicks out in attempt to regain footing.

“…An avenging angel?” Ulfr offers in jest. “Wait, do your people believe in those? Perhaps vengeful god’s better? Ah, doesn’t matter.” Fists turn to ice as the prince claws at them. 

“Unhand me, Helegan!” Draugluin orders him, then his page. “Anno dulu enni!”

“Shut…UP!!” The frost giant’s had enough of this. Of the prince’s fear after being only too keen to whip a little boy, of his demanding nature, of all those things that remind Ulfr of Loki. He’s lived under shitty princes and cruel kings, he’s had enough of them and the universe could certainly do with one fewer. And, with a flick of his wrist, there is.

Virtion jumps, muffles the yelp with his hands, before looking up into red eyes as his own tear.

Hard to imagine, but Ulfr forgot about the boy and immediately drops the body to crouch before him. “Shhh, shh shh shh…” he quickly works to soothe, silence, the child. “Hey, no no, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not, just…”

“Prince Draugluin?! My lord…where’ve you gone?!”

Ulfr’s hand flies over the boy’s mouth as he gives a stressed smile. “He really was the prince?” The boy nods. Oops. “You’re a slave, yes?” The boy nods again. “I killed your master, yes?” Another nod. “Good, now you’re mine, understand?” Nod. “Close your eyes and do not open them again until I say so.”

The page does as told, closes and even covers eyes. He listens though. Without understanding why he hears the growls of a beast, the tearing of flesh and crunching of bone so terrifying he begins to shake, bite back sobs, praying to the gods that someone will come along and find him. Save him. Protect him. End whatever bizarre nightmare he’s in.

“Sire?” Maethril’s eyes scan the area, but only finds his horse, his page boy, and mass of gore between the two. She supposes she should at least be grateful the gore isn’t the boy…it wouldn’t be the first time Prince Draugluin ‘accidentally’ lost a servant while hunting. “Where is he?!” The page merely shakes his head with eyes still covered. He doesn’t know and can’t look to see. “Boy!” It’s a warning snap from the she-elf, but Virtion is held by the orders of his strange new master.

“Calm yourself…” The prince appears from within the woods, spattered with blood but otherwise his usual haughty self. He looks down at the youth, smirks. “Virtion, open your eyes, foolish boy.” The words are correct, but the tone far too kind.

The page opens them cautiously, they go wide at the sight of his former master before him. He jumps, trips and falls, at the mass of death before him. He looks up at the narrow-eyed she-elf, one of the royal family’s personal guards, then to Draugluin. He thinks he knows, but surely it can’t be…

“I told you the wolf would not get us,” the man states firmly before a hint of smile and flash of crimson eyes show to the lad. “Your lord and master is much too clever to fall prey to such a dull creature.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this initial switch is relatively easy, I doubt all things will be so for him…Ulfr’s read about this realm, but not been to it and the prince is a very different person. Ulfr can speak Allspeak though, so he’ll understand what’s being said aside from, maybe, certain cultural phrases. 
> 
> Also Ljósálfar are the Norse Light Elves, Álfheimr is their realm, and I’ll be using the concept of Tolkien elves (in part) to represent them, lol!


	4. Spellbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Loki…Is it a person or item?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece begins Thor’s main story.

It is Odin who tricks Thor away from his brother, leaving Loki unprotected and easily taken. It is Odin who induces forgetfulness and spreads it through Asgard like a poison. The king works his magic to make it grow so that, in time, Loki might be forgotten throughout the realms completely. Like Hela before, his adopted son would become nothing but a story, a mere fantasy; no one and nothing true. Odin would put distance between himself, his family, and his unfortunate error once again to save his pride and crown.

By the time Thor returns to the rock there is nothing there but smashed rubble and the faint sense of urgency. He’d come to the edge of the grounds for some reason, an important task, but the answers are all in pieces he can't pull together. Earnest eyes scan for clues, questions, something beyond kicked up and bloodied dirt.

His mother’s lullaby hits his ears and he turns back, up, to the palace. With placid face and knowing smile Frigga hums and, as Thor watches her, she changes before him. Deep blue dress turns green and gold. Long blond hair smooths into shoulder-length black and her whole form changes. The woman looks wholly recognizable, yet Thor cannot place the man she’s become. _You must find him, Thor. Save your brother. Protect Loki._

“Loki…” Thor repeats the name heard only in his mind; it feels right. Real. He looks around, as if he might find this Loki nearby, before looking back up to catch sight of his mother walking back into the palace. “Loki….Loki…Loki…” The god repeats the name over and over, keeping it foremost in his mind, as he hurries to Heimdall’s observatory. “I must find a Loki, what do you see, Heimdall?”

The man narrows his eyes, ticks head slightly. “Loki? I’m afraid I do not know this word. Is it a person or item?” If he has a clearer idea of what he’s looking for, perhaps he can find it.

“I…” Thor clung to the name, but forgot its meaning. He tries to recall his mother (this Loki is tied to her, is it not?), then smiles. “I believe it is a being.”

Heimdall nods, closes eyes to concentrate, but there is nothing. Only tenuous threads he cannot weave into anything substantial and even those fray before his very mind’s eye. “I am sorry, Thor, but I can find nothing.” It was so very unusual, very strange. “Perhaps it’s something to do with your time on Midgard?”

“…Perhaps…”

“Shall I send you there in search of answers and this lost…thing.” Heimdall himself’s already forgotten what they’re in search for.

“Yes, I shall go to Stark’s.” He cannot say why he picks Tony except he’s the smartest man Thor knows of on Midgard. And, if this…Loki…is a dangerous thing Tony will most certainly be prepared and ready for battle beside him.

“Very well, my prince, I shall send you directly,” Heimdall bows his head and, in a moment’s flash, Thor is at the end of Stark’s long landing pad at the Avengers Tower.

Not even leaving his lands can stop the disintegration of Thor’s memory though; not even reaching Midgard can protect him from his own father’s magic. By the time he reaches Stark, lounging on a deck chair, his face’s fallen to confusion. …What has he come to ask again?

Tony’s brows rise in alarm, then fall in the wait for Thor to speak. “You alright there, Point Break?”

“I’m sorry, my friend.” Thor knows he needs help, but the reason, the trouble, is fogged from him. It’s something distant, unattainable, but very true and very real. “I…I came to request your aid…only now I’ve forgotten why.”

“So you came here to ask for my help…” Tony’s stands, examines his friend more closely. “But can’t remember with what?”

“I cannot,” Thor confesses with a sigh, running hand through hair, twisting hammer in the other. He can remember years, centuries. He has a god’s memory, how can he forget something he is certain recently occurred?!

“You hit your head on the Bifrost or something?”

Eyes fall to despair. “No.”

“Uh….huh…” He didn’t think gods could get amnesia, yet here's Thor, a god, standing all amnesiac before him. “Look, buddy, how ‘bout we go inside, have a drink, and see if we can’t figure this out, yeah?”

“Very well, my friend.”

Tony lets Thor follow as his mind begins to gather what little facts there are and formulate theories. Whatever is going on, it’s powerful enough to mess with a god’s mind. That said, Thor seems of sound mind and, potentially, with solid recall aside from whatever he needs help with. So what are they looking at here? Injury? Infection? Something else entirely? Tony skips the bar in the penthouse for the one down in his workshop and let’s Thor settle on a nearby chair as he pours for both of them - definitely need a drink or two before opening whatever can of worms this is.

“I adjusted the coding and cleared out the spare bugs from your latest suit, Stark.” The voice itself is almost robotic, but Thor sees clearly the being is flesh and blood. Back to them, hunkering down over a series of computers, he catches feminine eyes in the reflection of one of the screens. “That Thor?”

“Yeah,” Tony tips back his first drink, pours his second, as Thor takes his first. “Lynk, this is Thor, Thor,” he points to the person’s back. “Lynk with a Y…my tech assistant.” Pepper will always run most of his stuff, but Lynk has certain, unique, abilities that makes her utterly invaluable to him in his work.

Thor smiles. “Greetings, fair maid.”

“Yeah…No.”

Thor’s face falls. “No?”

Lips lift, but focus remains on the computers. “I’m not a fair maid, Mr Odinson. I’m just Lynk.”

“You may call me Thor, if you wish.”

“Okay then, Thor. I’m still Lynk.”

Thor looks to Tony, unsure, but Tony just shrugs and finishes his second drink. “Okay, so this thing you need help with…”

“Yes?”

“Let’s do process of elimination.”

“Very well.”

“It have anything to do with Earth?”

“…Not directly, I don’t believe…”

“Asgard then?”

“Maybe.”

“You personally?”

“…I…in a way, perhaps?”

“Family maybe?”

Thor’s pause is especially long, his heart and mind arguing for an accurate answer. “I…I believe so.”

“Parents?”

“They are not the issue…but maybe connected to it?” His mother turned into it, hadn’t she? Yes, yes she had, but…but Thor cannot recall what she’d turned into anymore.

Tony sighs, now presuming the whole thing a giant waffling by the god. “Fuck. if it’s Loki just say so, Thor. I’m still not about to help, but at least I’d admire the boldness of asking directly.”

“Wha-? Who…Who is…Loki?” And why did it sound so familiar and yet not at the same time?

“Loki, also known as Loki Laufeyson or Loki Odinson, is the God of Mischief and listed as a top-tier intergalactic terrorist by S.H.I.E.L.D.. His attempts to take over Earth resulted in the destruction of Manhattan and countless deaths. Captured by The Avengers Initiative he was turned over to his brother, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, to be returned to Asgard where his punishment would be set by the King of Asgard, Odin Allfather.” The young woman turns to them both, face showing a mix of concern and interest. “You can’t remember your own brother?”

She is slight, pale, with spiked, jet black, hair and many bits of metal in her face…Thor cannot recall seeing another like her on Midgard. He smiles in spite of his current predicament. “You know him?”

“Of him,” Lynk clarifies. “I was lecturing in Boston when he came to New York, but I watched the news. Question is, why don’t you?”

“Maybe it’s Loki himself doing this?” Tony offers. “It’s not beyond him, right? Take out his brother, escape, rally some troops, come back at Earth again.”

“You’re making assumptions without basis,” she counters flatly.

“My basis is I know the guy. I’ve seen what he can do, first hand.”

“Why give his brother amnesia then send him in your direction?”

“Distraction? Shits and giggles? How should I know.”

Lynk’s eyes switch to Thor. “We need more data.”

Thor has no issue with basic or advanced memory tests, brain scans show no clear injury or disease, and nothing can be found in his blood that would suggest a cause for his amnesia. Both Tony and Lynk remain stuck, unsure what to test for next, as Thor lays on the table looking up at both of them.

“Do we know why I’ve forgotten what I’ve forgotten?” Again Loki’s existence has slipped from his mind, but not the urgency of the need to help, to get help.

“No,” Tony sighs; Thor frowns deeply. “But I’m starting to guess some kind of magic, which leads us back to Loki.”

“Who?”

“Are you sure you actually need help, Thor? Or do you just…feel like you need it?”

“I need help, of that I’m certain.”

Lynk looks down. “With…or for…your brother, Loki, yeah?”

Memories shift farther out of reach. “I…cannot recall.”

Tony rolls eyes in frustration, convinced this is some elaborate trick by the God of Mischief. He wants no part of it; better to hunker down, fortify, with backup plans for when Loki’s true scheme is ultimately revealed. “This is probably all just a big fucking hoax.”

“It is not a hoax!” Thor flies up, roars his own frustration, as sparks crack across the metal table. The need to accomplish a goal he cannot recall has settled deep and sure in his heart even if his mind continues to betray him.

“Woah, hey there!” Tony’s thumb discreetly goes to his suit’s activation button as he and Lynk both jump back. “I don’t think you’re tricking me.”

“You think another is tricking us all,” Thor states firmly, hammer held out as if ready to crash. “I am not a fool, Stark, I know my own heart!”

“I might know someone who can help, Thor,” Lynk speaks up quickly, hoping to both placate and distract as she feels the machines around them shiver with herself and Tony.

The storm in the god dies and he turns as hope blooms once more. “Truly?”

“He might be able to figure out what you can’t remember or, at the very least, maybe why you can’t remember.” She looks to Tony, who’s finally beginning to breathe again. “If it’s a trick by Loki, then you might know what he’s up to and, if it’s not…” She smiles at Thor. “Then maybe we’ll know how to help.”

Honest trouble or not, Tony has no interest in helping Loki. He still wakes in the middle of night, sweaty and short of breath, thanks to that asshole. Best not to piss of his friend, the god, though. “Sure, if you know someone who’s willing. Can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Right.”

Thor grins. “Take me to him now, fair Lynk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit feel bad writing Thor like this…in part because I know he already gets a bad wrap as sorta being “slow on the uptake” and I don’t think he is. That said, Odin’s clouding his (and everyone else in Asgard’s) mind so I can't have Thor just putting it together...Frigga only does because she’s very powerful in magic herself.


	5. Channeled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That is extraordinary.”_

“This Professor Xavier is a sorcerer?” Thor bellows from the back of the motorcycle.

Lynk’s chuckle echoes in his helmet. “Mutant telepath, among other things. And you don’t have to yell, there’re microphones in the helmets.”

“That is extraordin-!” Thor stops as they roll through a large gate. “Forgive me. That is extraordinary.” He looks to a placard - _Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters_ \- and then reasserts grip around Lynk’s waist as she speeds past blurs of young people, fresh lawns, and on up to a large building Thor could only quantify as a castle. “This is where you live?”

“I have my own place, but a few hundred other mutants do.” Lynk pulls helmet off, gaze dropping to Thor’s hands, then up and back to his face. “You can get off the bike now.”

Thor hops off, removing helmet to reveal grin. “Sorry, fair Lynk.”

Mouth opens to correct him, but Lynk decides it’s the nicest way she’s been addressed so lets it go. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the professor.”

The god follows closely, but keeps eyes moving through halls and open rooms from sheer curiosity. There were many who looked as the typical Midgardian did, but others had skin like that of a Jotun or wings similar to the horses of the Valkyrie. He couldn’t help but pause a few times, requiring Lynk to go back and grab him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Thor,” Charles smiles as the god looks from his explorations of the study to him. “I understand you’re having some troubles with your memory.”

“I am on a quest to find…something…something of great importance…but I…forget what.”

Lynk frowns slightly, they’d only just discussed the topic before entering. “Tony and I think it’s Loki. You know, his brother?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He’d placed the whole team on standby in case things went sideways for The Avengers; thankfully they were not needed. “Thor, would you mind coming over, taking a seat, so we can better get acquainted.” So that he might have the god’s focus enough to determine what’s going on in his mind.

Thor plops into a high-backed chair as Charles maneuvers to set himself face-to-face with the other man, creating a sense of intimacy as a therapist might.

“Now I’d like you to relax and try to think of the last things you remember before you came to see Mr Stark.”

“Very well.” Thor isn’t quite ready to close his eyes to anything, but lounges back and lets his thoughts go to the start of the day…

The scenes come in fractals, with pieces missing... 

_…Thor hovering over smashed rock, bowl in hand…him running into the palace, calling for his mother…his equally frantic return to the rubble…_

In each scene parts blur or blacken and, only too soon after, Thor’s memory moves onto something else. Too often Thor’s mind wants to change the topic and, when Professor X goes farther back, he witnesses the same thing happening…even memories of Thor’s childhood are changing, fracturing. No doubt the specific targets are those memories involving Loki…

“Thor?” Professor X fades the connection to prevent jarring the god and damaging his fragile recall any more. “I’d like to invite a colleague of mine to assist, would that be all right?”

“You found nothing?” Concern paints Thor’s face.

“On the contrary, I found quite a lot…” he smiles encouragingly. “I can tell you it’s a targeted form of magic that’s effecting your memory, which is why Mr Stark and Lynk found nothing physically wrong with you. I can also tell you that it’s quite powerful, a near living thing.”

Thor’s face falls completely…there are only two people he can recall who are capable of such a thing and his mother would never.

“However, I believe we can find ways around and through it long enough to discover what your task is and how best to begin it.”

“You do?” The god is not terribly hopeful; the urge in him to find the thing, to…protect it?…is ever growing just as his memory of what it might be ever-fading.

Professor X smiles more. “Yes, I merely need a new lens through which to better focus my findings.”

As if on cue a man steps into the room; friendly smile, dark curly hair, and remarkably kind eyes. “You called for me Professor?” His smile greets everyone, is returned by everyone, then widens at the god before him. “Thor Odinson, what an honor.”

Thor gives a cursory smile, his heart not in it. They’re wasting time and the more that passes the more he forgets. No, that’s not quite right. He’s not forgetting more things, he’s forgetting something very specific all the more…and it’s something he doesn’t wish to forget. It’s something he wants desperately to remember.

Ash closes the door behind him, heads over through a dreary fog of stress and sadness from their guest. “Please don’t be discouraged, Mr Odinson, just keep that spark of hope alive and we’ll do everything we can to help you.”

Professor X smiles at Thor’s surprise. “Some of Ash’s abilities are somewhat related to my own, only his focus is on emotions.”

A string of Thor’s own electrical energy comes from Ash’s hand as he extends it to Thor; it connects the mutant and the god briefly before and after they shake hands. “How did you do that?” Thor’s so fascinated he’s now forgotten why he’s come at all. “Do you seize my powers from me?”

“Just replicating,” Ash clarifies as he sits in the last high-back chair available.

Lynk speaks up from the couch, head buried in work on her helmet. “Ash can use anyone’s natural born powers. He doesn’t even try, just links into your emotions and, poof, he’s using your powers.”

“But I am not a mutant, I am a god.” Surely that must make a difference. “My powers come from my hammer.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Lynk notes.

“Can you also lift my hammer…Ash?” It was the only name the man had been given.

Ash smiles. “No, probably not. As I understand it your hammer is imbued with magical powers…I’m not a magician and highly doubt I’d be considered worthy to lift it.”

“This is great and all,” Lynk cuts in once more, “But we need to help your brother, Loki, remember?”

“Yes, forgive me,” Thor smiles. “What is needed now, Professor?”

“Same as before, Thor, only this time concentrate on your feelings. About the day, about what you’ve forgotten.”

This time Thor does close his eyes. This time he lets his heart guide him through his memories…and Ash piggybacks on the resulting emotions while using Professor X’s telepathy to try and make sense of it all. It is still jumbled, still missing hunks, but with the knowledge those sections relate to Loki he can find a thread to follow: deep love and concern. Chasing the emotions he scrambles to put Thor’s mind together, slip around and through the magic trying to erase the man’s brother.

While Thor remains seemingly blissful, Ash begins to strain. Clouds roll in, thunder rumbles its threat. He closes eyes and clenches teeth in effort to handle surges of fear and rage…memories that can only be qualified as traumatic. Cracks of lightning ride along skin as a sudden, caustic, burn hits the back of Ash's neck. He hisses, the electricity jumps from him to Thor, making a circuit between them.

“Fuck…” Lynk jumps up, back. She knows both Thor and Ash are fine, but if a stray bolt’s let out she doesn’t want to be anywhere near it.

Charles rolls back as a precaution; slips into Ash’s mind in attempts to stabilize and better direct him. He manages to get Ash to focus in on a recent argument between Thor and his father, the desperation and anguish that comes from it. Together they pick up on the name Loptr, which their own minds are able to understand as a reference to Loki.

The electricity seems to fade in time with the thunder and clouds, settles back into both Thor and Ash with no affect to either.

Ash’s eyes tear in mirror to Thor’s, hands fist as the god’s do. “…Your father sold your brother into slavery?” Their faces share the horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love that Odin’s own words are what trip his spell up; Thor can remember “Loptr” so, if nothing else, he knows that’s who he’s supposed to find..sorta anyway, haha!


	6. Carried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“He’s a feisty one, eh?”_

He doesn’t sleep, he can’t; his mind runs through hundreds, thousands, of possibilities. Methods of survival, ways to escape, how best and quickest to get the upper-hand and overthrow his current situation. The collar pressures obedience so often Loki grows accustomed enough to ignore all but the greatest shocks…and even those only pause him briefly. He cannot stop; he stops and he’s submitted and Loki of Asgard submits to no one. Never fully. Never truly.

Others sleep. The snake-woman winces as she dozes. Fools. No wonder they’re all still slaves.

Loki pries at the thin metal netting encasing his hands, works to tear it apart, open. He fails at open, but nevertheless peels a strip of wire out that deft fingers begin to twist and shape. When the ship stops he searches for one of his pockets in the universe…finding he can access none, he palms it instead.

“To the back of the container!” The order rings throughout, to which those who can obey, do. Those who cannot, like Loki, merely make themselves smaller…except Loki. He’s cramped enough, he’ll not be making himself all the smaller and more uncomfortable.

The ramp lowers, four armed and armored men enter with a fifth coming last as he examines a tablet. He calls names and, one by one, those who can come forward do so. Those who can’t are gathered up by the guards. Loki only watches, tries to see where they go once beyond the ramp and, failing that, find a routine to the roll call. …It’s basis of origin, from first to last pickup, female to male…

“Asgard, Malina.”

She slips forward, past others, past Loki with a furtive and warning glance, before continuing on down the ramp. Of all the beings to have her fate tied to, it has to be the God of Mischief. A god whose nature she knows is to trick, to lie, and to fight…whose nature is most likely to get them both killed. She can only pray to the fates that she’ll have a new master soon, that in having new orders to follow her past ones - especially Thor’s - will be negated. In the meantime whatever the god did will affect her; her well-being, her safety, her future.

“Asgard, Loptr.”

The guards lift cage and Loki tightens sore muscles, ready to spring at first opportunity. He’s dropped beside Malina as if no more than cargo. The tablet-man even scolds - “don’t damage the merchandise!” - as if he were such a thing. He growls, braces feet and back against the bars in attempts to break free…but, like all the times prior, to no avail. Unlike the other times, he does garner attention for it.

“He’s a feisty one, eh?” Tablet Man struts down the ramp, letting it shut behind him. “You want out, that it? Go ahead…Let him out.”

Loki works the hand cage lock with his bit of metal and, when the container is kicked open, his hands are as free as the rest of him. Tablet Man steps back, hitting a button that sets alarm off, while guards rush forward and Malina grips her collar preparing for all the ways this will go wrong for Loki…for her.

The first guard approaches from the front and Loki punts the cage into his nose, breaking it with a nasty crunch and wail from him. The second guard tries a side approach and receives Loki’s makeshift lock-pick in the eye. The other two are smarter and tackle from behind together, gathering up hands and arms underneath as they force him to the dirt with a gruesome CRACK.

Pain fires in fingers, arm, to shoulder and neck as one wrist bends in the most unnatural of ways. The god twists, shifts, to avoid teeth cracking when guards slam knees into his back, forcing more weight onto the broken bone…bones as there’s a secondary punishing slam to break more.

Malina grabs her own wrist, her own hand, opening mouth in a silent cry. Loki’s pain is her own; that is her punishment from the collar. Without injury the thrall collar lights up her nerves with the raw pains of a shattered wrist and crushed fingers until tears stream down her face. She will protect Loki or she will suffer with him.

It would not be so terrible if he could merely fix it, if he could do what he’s always done. Quick as thought he’d heal bruises, bleeds, and breaks in the past…but now, Seiðr locked behind collar and muzzle, Loki has no choice but to feel it. Truly feel it. And it feels terrible; crippling as he finds himself unable to do anything with the hand and even thought of effort brings shocks of both numbness and pain. Loki cringes, cries out through gag, as the two slam him once more.

Nausea hits her in waves, she doubles over, sobs, trying to hide herself in the crowd for a moment’s peace and privacy. She takes a deep breath, tries to straighten up, then Loki’s slammed a fourth time in the rush of reinforcements…Malina’s retches, balance leaves her, stars come, and she passes out into the dirt.

“What the fuck?” Tablet Man rolls eyes with a groan and whistles as more guards approach. “Get those two to medical, the rest to processing, I don’t have time for this shit.”

Those pinning Loki yank him back up, mangled hand held in his other, as a new guard cuffs Malina by hands and feet before lifting her over his shoulder like a sack to carry away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki’s wrist mainly broke due to its angling when he was tackled under his own weight (though the additional weight of the guard’s didn’t help); Malina had a greater reaction because she’s a mortal trying to handle a god’s level of pain, if that makes sense.


	7. Captivated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Unimpressive.”_

Every few feet the guards stop, stomp Loki under their boots, before moving on…by the time he reaches his final destination in the medical building his nose bleeds, eyes swell, and two ribs are broken. The men heave him into the room, kick out knees so he hits the floor, and one yanks the muzzle from his mouth so harshly it chips tooth. “Fucking piece of shit,” the man mutters, forcing Loki up, back on his heels. “Stay.”

He says nothing, does nothing, as they clip chain from his collar to an empty exam table. He takes the room in. The serpent woman, Malina, lays on an exam table with collar chained to its base as a woman with armor so fitted it could be skin looks her and nearby monitors over. A large portable instrument-table stands at the center.

Guards exit, some giving a spare kick as if for good luck, with the last whispering to the woman hovering by Malina. Loki catches a name - Root - as she nods.

“They tell me you are a fighter.” The woman’s voice is deep, detached. “Will you fight me, little Asgardian?”

Loki knows it best to stay silent or assure he’ll be no trouble. “I’ve no reason.” But his pride thinks _‘yet'_ and the collar fires a shot; he winces and Malina jolts, groans.

“A thrall without a master is lost thing…” Root muses, turning to him. All along her hairline, framing her face, is blue that bleeds into her eyes, lips, and sections of her hair. Loki can sense her strength on instinct and realizes she is not one to battle in his current state. “It’s dangerous for them, they must listen to everyone. Obey every thing.”

Legs and thighs, ankles and feet, shake as he attempts to both keep his position and lean back in her approach. Eventually he tips, falls onto his back with only one good hand to protect him. Something about her, her stomping walk and hard stare, makes him uneasy while he’s in this state…this is the one entrusted to treat his injuries?

“You are remarkably…” Her lips spread in a grin as she stands over him, sets boot on either side and squats. Smile leaves. “Unimpressive.” Smile returns at his wince when foot taps shattered wrist. “You can heal yourself.”

“No.” The collar immediately reacts to the “lie” and he arches in the rabid shocks of the punishment…as does Malina. “I…I…Ah…Ah!!” Tears stream, jaw locks, as his eyes roll up away from Root’s critical ones.

“You **_will_** heal yourself.”

Seiðr works to obey faster than his brain registers the order, healing body from head to toe with its reserves. Loki’s eyes shut in exhausted relief from the waves of pain, the aches of muscles, he’s had since his last days on Asgard…all of twelve hours ago, by his calculation. Eyes reopen when the woman’s weight pins him at the waist.

“You’re punished, she reacts. Why?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Root stares, blinks, then suddenly pins Loki’s hand under her boot and jams a knife into the center of his arm. He screams as much in shock as pain, but she disallows him to pull away. Ignores his attempts to get her boot off as she turns back to Malina on the bed. She cringes, arm twitching, as vitals react in pain. “Heal yourself,” the doctor orders, pulling the blade out.

Loki does, keeping hand over healed arm, protecting it, while he watches the doctor go over to Malina. She calls to the woman to wake up and Malina does, as if the order itself determines whether or not she sleeps. She cradles arm and apologizes; Loki can’t fathom for what.

“You are tied to him. Why?”

“His brother ordered me to care for him, ensure he is not hurt.”

“He did?” Loki’s outburst comes from pure shock; Thor has not abandoned him…not completely.

Root’s attention whips back and his eyes go wide with worry; she takes a step forward before Malina calls her back. “Until I get a new master, I’m responsible for him.”

The doctor eyes the god chained to her table carefully. “His pain is yours.”

“Until a new master, yes.”

“Interesting.” She looks back to Malina.

The serpent-woman slides up on the table, gold eyes trying to entrance the other. “The thrall collars work in mysterious ways, as you know.”

“He will get you killed.”

“Help me.” The collar squeezes in. “Us…help us.”

“What will you give me?”

“What do you want?”

“I will have your venom.”

Malina’s attempt having failed she sighs with a nod. “Very well, get me the cup.”

The Kree woman selects a large plastic cup from her instrument table and hands it over. “Fill it.”

“I…I’m not…” Her collar presses in as she rides between disobedience and obedience. “…sure I can.” With everything her own body’s been through on Asgard, in transport and landing here.

“I don’t care.”

“…If I might,” Loki gives his most charming smile. “Perhaps I can offer something to make up the difference?” His mistake is clear almost immediately as the doctor turns to him.

“There is nothing of yours I cannot have.” Root only does pleasantries with Malina because she knows the slave knows her place. “And Malina will give me everything she can spare.”

Malina focuses so only her fangs appear, then sets them at the inner-edge of the cup and bites. Venom drips, dribbles, an amber gold similar to her eyes. Eyes that only catch Loki’s once and quickly look away before shutting completely. She’s been ordered to give up her venom countless times, but has yet to grow accustomed to it. Even though a slave all her life, knowing better, something about her milkings always feels…intensely private.

“You will stand where you are and remain silent as I gather information.” Root orders Loki, rolling tray-table as she approaches. He rises and opens mouth to agree, but can’t speak due to her orders. So he watches, eyes flicking to Malina now and again, but otherwise focusing on the doctor and her various instruments. Only when she smiles at the results of a blood test does Loki’s gut tighten. “You are not Asgardian…you are Jotun.”

In a split second Loki’s flattened under her once again, heart slamming adrenaline throughout his body as fight or flight kicks in. He tries to scramble out from under her, flip their positions, but she only reasserts and fists hair to force his face to hers.

“Show me your lines.” He tries to shake head, she slams it into the floor. “Show me your lines!”

Loki doesn’t understand why she wants to see them, why cold demeanor has turned into fiery aggression. Does she think the lines have significance? Has she made an enemy Jotun and wishes to identify him via designs? Whatever the reason, he refuses. He remains stubborn and panicked, fighting as discomfort leads to pain and strain turns to shock. He grits teeth and Malina begins to shake so that her own orders can no longer be followed. She winces, gasps, grips metal-table’s edge and cup both. If she could beg, she would, but the words fail as she tries to handle two punishments at once.

Root grabs his chin, forces his gaze to Malina. “You do this to her for what? Pride?!” She huffs amusement. “You cling to something you’ve no right to, Jotun slave. Now show me your lines!”

He can take the collar’s punishments still, he knows that, but Malina…she doubles over, shrinks back into herself. The cup crushes in her hand and she wails as her own venom burns her hand and collar doubles the punishment. That is his fault. Her failure, her pain, is his fault, and only he can stop it…With deep inhale Loki closes his eyes and lets Jotun lines fade into being.

Malina falls back onto the table with a groan as pain subsides; she pants, attempts to catch breath. Her hand throbs, skin bubbles and blisters, but collar reads it as punishment enough for her failure to give Root the venom. She twists, sets forehead to cool metal, as she prays once more for a new master to come soon.

The god’s chin is released and he looks away, up to the doctor taking him in. Her eyes scan intently; hand goes to his tunic and yanks it up to expose stomach and chest, searching for something. Loki swallows urge to fight as muscles ripple, then twitch. He looks down, across lines he so rarely lets be seen even by himself, then back to the doctor. What in the nine realms is she looking for?

“The last time I had one like you under me it was most educational…” His shiver vibrates under her, her lips quirk up as fingers trace a section across sternum. “I never got to complete my research.” Nails dig in slightly, plucking at a now ridged line on his chest.

“Hey!” The voice comes from the doorway, quick and irritated. “You’re here to clear them medically, not…whatever the fuck you’re doing with that poor thing. You want that shit, you pay like everyone else, now fucking clear them already!”

Loki’s closes eyes in relief; sighing caught breath as his appearance returns to its most comfortable state. He doesn’t dare reopen eyes even after he feels Root’s weight leave him in a growl of displeasure.

“This one can heal itself, probably others as well.”

“Then have him do it and move the fuck on. We’ve got two more shipments coming in this afternoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Root is part-Kree and has a history with a Jotun, but not Loki…you’ll find out more going forward because I think Root’s a little, haha, obsessive and will show up again. You'll discover soon enough if the guy who interrupted Root is friend, foe, or indifferent... ;-)


	8. Subjected

“Sorry, if you’d been registered properly, I’d have had you taken elsewhere,” Tablet-Man smirks, escorting both Loki and Malina down the hall. “Root’s got this obsession with finding an old bit of her people’s property…some Jotun with a wolf on him.”

Loki’s eyes go wide - Ulfr! - and he hurries beside the man and opens mouth to speak only to find he still can’t. In frustration he growls, stomps foot.

Tablet-Man stops, turns, with wide grin. “Lemme guess, you have information about this thing that you’re just dying to trade with me?” Loki nods, he copies. “Well, unless you know precisely where it is, it doesn’t matter…Do you?” The god’s eyes lower; he hasn’t a clue what happened to the frosty, blue, bastard. “That’s what I thought, now keep going.”

For all his bark and taunt during the ship’s unloading, Tablet-Man’s all business now. He’s calm, carrying himself with surety and seeming to see, hear, know everything happening. He doesn’t miss a trick, often correcting Loki’s distance and speed with nary a look in his direction. When he stops, spins around, he’s got hand to Loki’s chest before the other can self-correct. “Malina…” hand remains on Loki as he looks to the woman. “Female section, you know the drill.”

The woman only nods then turns down a nearby hallway lined with guards.

“You come with me.”

Loki becomes increasingly unsure the farther into the building they go. Nothing good can come of privacy in this situation, not for him. The door they stop at is marked ‘PRIVATE’, containing bio-pad locking mechanism and no window. There’s not even a two-way mirror inside, only a table and two chairs. He hesitates at orders to enter until collar presses in…until Tablet-Man gives him a shove and shuts the door behind them both. Loki spins, keeps wide and wary eyes on the other, unsure what fresh hell this might be.

“Sit, it might be the last time you get to enjoy a chair.“

Eyes never leave as Loki sits, the other taking the seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Tilt your head up.”

Loki does, eyes still on the man.

He nods in his examination, then orders. “Show me an illusion. A snake, make it appear on the table. Do it now.”

Loki considers making something deadly or massive, something to frighten and manipulate the man, but then thinks better. Instead he makes a simple green garden snake with golden eyes like Malina. Best to appease the ruler of this weigh-station of a planet than offend and risk even worse treatment.

“Good…good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Loki mutters before breathing a relieved smile. His speech is back.

“If your collar lights are yellow, you won’t be allowed to eat or speak, not until you’ve pleased your master.” He leans in. “Your baseline lights are blue and you wanna do everything you can to keep them blue.” Obviously.

“Wh-Why are you helping me?” Loki did not know this man, never met him.

“Because you strike me as the type who’s gonna end up dead in less than six Midgardian months.”

“And that…matters to you?”

“Does it matter to you?”

He thinks about how to answer. Does it matter? Loki can’t imagine any part of this new life Odin’s condemned him to improving. Loki’s traveled, seen things, and knows there are precious few places where a slave is seen as anything more than a beast of one burden or another. …Then he remembers what Malina said about Thor. His brother’s not abandoned him; he would not abandon himself.

“How?”

“How what?”

“Do I last longer?”

“Look pathetic. Broken. No one wants to break an already broken thing, I find. The fighters though?” He smirks. “Well, you’ve experienced how they’re treated.”

“You do this for everyone?”

“No.” The man stands. “I do this on behalf of a mutual friend.”

“…Who are you?”

“Most call me Hermóðr.”

Loki pales, his breath stops. “By the Norns…” Thor’s too late, he’s already dead. Terror strikes him harder than anything else ever has…including the green beast, Banner. “You’ve come to take me to Hel.”

“Not the one you’ll hope for.” Hermóðr stands with faint smile. “Now…you need to be processed properly, come on.”

“Please! Please, show mercy!”

The other god sighs. “I’m showing you all I am allowed. All that will keep Heimdall’s eyes from looking this way. Now stand.”

Loki bites shaking lip, but is compelled to obey. “You can’t…just…just let me slip away?” He begs. “You’ll never see me again. No one will.”

“Afraid not…but this is not the end.”

* * * 

In processing he’s made to proclaim himself Loptr so often he begins to think it his true name. His collar allows his place of origin as Asgard, but forces him to confess he is Jotun. All efforts to hold back on his abilities, his knowledge of magic and languages, is denied as collar squeezes the truth from him.

He’s made to strip, given cleansing stone, herded with countless others into a warehouse-sized room. It’s hot and stuffy and smells of all manner of unpleasant things. Loki quickly overheats, grows unbalanced, as bodies cram and bump into one another, everyone looking for fresh air in a sealed room. He looks up, notes shower-heads lining the ceiling.

“Hey,” a shorter being with green skin nudges Loki. “Hey, don’t look up.” Loki lowers head, confused. “The first hit’s disinfectant, you don’t want that shit hitting your face, trust me.”

The liquid hits a moment later, the harsh scent and screams of those with weaker skin giving away its true nature. Loki only feels it once the shower starts, a stinging as his body reddens from the mix of chemicals and hot water. When his green savior begins to squirm in discomfort Loki does his best to block the water with his own body.

“Thanks buddy,” the creature smiles up as the water dies down.

Loki returns the smile without word. His mind falls to Malina…is she going through the same thing? Has he made it worse in taking the brunt of the burn in the showers? Or is she already untied from him, never to be seen again?

A door opens, orders come to exit, and between collar and crowd he’s no option but to do so. Loki watches though, forever looking for angles. An opportunity to take later, when he’s certain the consequences will be his and his alone. The staff are good though, they never leave any prisoner alone and never allow themselves to be outnumbered…and then there are the cameras. Everywhere.

People are redistributed into smaller groups, made to queue up, and each pawed at. Their muscles (if any) examined, scars and markings noted, collar inspected. Loki only hesitates when asked to show his Jotun appearance, but as collar and memories of Malina’s pain at his disobedience flood his mind in he relents.

Loki returns to his Asgardian form after inspection; he looks for his green friend from the showers, but can’t find him as everyone is, again, redistributed. No opportunity to make alliances, make friends…it’s smart. Processing over, he’s ordered on through a door and into a hall.

He only recognizes Malina in the crowd and Hermóðr before a large security door. He tries to keep eye contact with her, impart his apologies from afar, but soon his eyes fall in shame. He’d been selfish, stupid…it’d not even occurred to him that his actions might affect her.

She takes a deep breath as he looks down, slips through the corral to stand beside him. “You didn’t know,” she says without taking eyes off the door before them.

“Still…”

“Now you do.”

Any opportunity to respond, to apologize properly, is cut off by Hermóðr…

“Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermóðr is based off Norse myth (you can read about him [here](https://norse-mythology.org/hermod/) and [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herm%C3%B3%C3%B0r)) considered the messenger of the gods and one who guides the dead to the afterlife. And I'll not say who their mutual friend is...yet. ;-)


	9. Mesmerized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What about Grim?”_

Maethril keeps careful eye on the prince as they ride back. She’s never trusted him, but as he allows a slow ride, orders her to allow his page, Virtion, on the back of her horse, she becomes all the more suspicious. This is not the prince she knows; not the cruel man who forces his servants to run alongside his horse, gives the lash when they fall behind.

“Perhaps you’d like a portrait,” Ulfr offers with a smirk.

“Beg pardon, my lord?”

He chuckles. “You gaze upon your prince quite a lot, perhaps you’d like to capture the view for all time?”

She exhales breath just shy of a sigh, rolls eyes to look ahead. There he is, the arrogant brat prince. Still, something is off, he is not himself, she is sure of it…or perhaps her suspicions have merely taken on a new form? He’s been all the more secretive as of late. Private visits to the shamans, journeys into the forest alone (or with slaves that don’t come back), and a strange peace at his father’s decision not to bring him on the visit to Niflheim. He is hiding something, Maethril is merely unsure of what.

“Shall you have lunch, my lord?”

He’d forgotten food in his rush to be free, away from Midgard and Asgard both, but now that it is mentioned it’s all he can think of. Still… “No.” Too risky, he’s little idea what elves eat with frequency and no idea of Prince Draugluin‘s preferences. “I wish to retire to my quarters, clean up and rest before this evening’s meal.” Maybe, by then, he’ll know what to eat.

Ulfr turns his ignorance into a test for Virtion: Can you remember where my horse is stabled? Can you recall the favored route to my quarters? Do you know which guards stand for me? …Blessed boy knows the answers to them all and, once in the prince’s chambers, Ulfr drops the act.

“Why was the prince in the forests today?”

“I don’t know, mi’lord.” The boy scurries to catch the top cape of prince’s outfit and finds himself quickly covered well beyond his size. He hears deep laughter, worries it’s a trick or punishment for his ignorance, and begins to whimper. The silken fabric flies from him and he sees the red-eyed “prince” kneeling before him.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Ulfr tosses the cape far off. “I don’t know what the prince was like, but I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. Even if you fail at a task.” He smiles softly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, okay?”

The boy nods.

“Good.” He stands back up, works off yet another layer of elvish garb. There are far too many and far too many cover him completely, it’s near suffocating to wear so much.

“Sire?”

“Mm?”

“What about Grim?”

“Grim?” He finally gets to one layer - tunic, pants, boots - and untangles crown best he can.

“Another servant of Pr- of yours…he cares for me.”

“Yes, the same goes for Grim.”

“Will you stop his punishment then?”

“His punishment?”

“Yes, Sire,” the boy shifts in nerves. “He…got The Box yesterday. I do not know the reasons.”

Ulfr does his best not to panic and risk flustering the page. “Do you know where The Box is?”

“Under the floor of your study, mi’lord.”

“Show me. Quickly.”

Virtion dashes off, Ulfr after, as they run out of bedroom, through entertaining room, and down hall to a spacious room of untouched books and unused desk. A room clearly just for show. “He’s there, under the stones,” the boy points to a spot near an unlit fireplace.

Ulfr skids to hands and knees, throwing rug before grabbing hold of stone. They’re heavy, immovable by lesser beings, but once his grip is sure the Jotun lifts and shoves them aside easily. His breath stops at seeing the box - a rough, wooden, coffin with tiny slat for air - before he takes the risk of curling fingers into hole to tear top off…he’s no time to fiddle with locks.

Grim shocks to consciousness as wood snaps and splinters rain down. Why will the prince not simply allow him the peace of death? His body aches in a wretched dryness that makes the effort of breathing painfully straining and all his limbs are so stiff even the opening of eyes takes enormous effort. The sun stings, burns, as he wheezes and groans his first full breath. Dry lips lift at the sight though. “…You’re not the prince…” Exhaustion retakes him and eyes close.

“Shit,” Ulfr mutters, pulling the rest of the box apart until he can drop down into the hole. He crouches, stretches across Grim to better examine him. Body twitches in pain, yet he remains breathing, though barely. He looks, feels, different: he’s no elf - no pointed ears, smooth hair, or scent of fresh air and flowers that so many of the Ljósálfar have. This man smells of the sea and his skin has a roughness reminiscent of fish scales. Slits are at either side of neck and waist, slowly opening and closing...gills. “What’s he need?” Ulfr asks Virtion, climbing out with the man over a shoulder.

“Grim always returns to the water when out for too long, perhaps he needs to again?”

The Jotun nods, begins to carry the man back towards the bedroom, boy following behind. “Do you know what he is?” He continues past bed, through open side of the room, out to the glittery pond. With as much care as he can manage without falling in himself Ulfr lowers the being into the water.

“We call them Oarnér.” Man of the sea. “There are not many, but Grim is one.”

Ulfr watches the man first float, then slowly slip under the water. For a long period the man merely seems to sink farther down, so far down Ulfr can barely spot him. Then the water begins to ripple, something stirring it from down below, and Ulfr sighs in relief. Smiles when the man is once again seen just under the surface, moving furiously as if shot back to life thanks to his submersion in the pond. Waves increase, bubbles foam the surface. Ulfr watches with fascination; more so as the waves settle and he sees the wavering form of the man’s nude body. Bubbles grow and the man finally resurfaces.

Water slickens his hair, brings skin back to shimmery smoothness. He smiles first to the Virtion, gives him reassuring wink, before eyes travel up to a stripped down version of Prince Draugluin. Tall and blond and Elvish as ever, yet more beautiful. More handsome with kind smile and caring eyes; more appealing with his look to Virtion that says he sees the boy as a boy, not a servant.

Grim swims to the edge of the pond, climbs out, stands shameless in his nudity. "You saved me,” he extends hand to Ulfr, whose own shakes when it’s taken. “Thank you, my friend.”

“You’re…” Ulfr’s eyes never leaves the water being even as he releases hand to continue past Ulfr and pick a layer of the prince’s clothing left on the bed. “Welcome.”

“Now I know you’re not the king,” Grim seems to delight as he wraps himself in flowered silk.

The Jotun smirks. “How is that?”

“The prince would never gaze upon me as you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grim is based mostly on the [Fossegrim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fossegrim) (hence the name lol), but I may also mix in bits of Nøkken, mermen, and other mythological aquatic beings. And Niflheim is the realm of the dwarves in Norse mythology.
> 
> Also...Word Glossary (in order of usage):
> 
> Maethril - [Female] Warrior (Sindarin)  
> Virtion - Virt - Slave (Qenya); -ion - son (Sindarin)  
> Draugluin - Blue (Were)wolf (Sindarin)  
> Oarnér - Oar - Child of the Sea (Qenya); nér - Male (Qenya)


	10. Intrigued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So you aim to begin again, here.”_

“I take it the prince is dead.” Grim drops onto the edge of the bed, already exhausted once more. He should’ve stayed in the water longer; he should’ve stayed for at least a day, but it’s too dangerous. While this man may pay no mind, Grim knows what can befall those caught in the royals’ private waters.

Ulfr finds his voice with a smirk. “Very much so.”

“Good.” Grim sets head between knees, forces air into pained lungs. “I hope he suffered.”

“There were tears.”

The water spirit smiles, lifts head back up only to be caught in a swell of dizziness. Hands brace either side and he soon senses Virtion before him, ready to catch. “Don’t worry, boy,” he reassures. “Just a bit of imbalance.”

“Do you need more water? Some goat?”

“I will be well shortly.”

“Have someone bring water and goat anyway,” Ulfr cuts in. “Tell them the prince wishes to eat in his chambers, but they must knock lest they intrude on him.”

“Yes, Sire!” The page scurries as fast as he would for the prince, but now due to excitement instead of fear.

“Is it just you?” Grim runs fingers through hair, trying to squeeze its dampness onto his skin. “Or should we be preparing for an invasion?“

“Just me,” Ulfr assures, taking time to explore the prince’s chambers. He liked rich things, like fur, and violent things, like mementos of the beasts he killed. “What in the Nine Realms did you do to get buried alive?”

“I quarreled with the prince.”

“That’s it?”

“‘Tis a great offense in this land.” Grim’s shifts shoulders out of cloak, finding it suddenly too heated. “You aim to continue masquerading as the prince, Heru Ulfr?”

The Jotun examines a dagger displayed bedside, sighs. “I’ve nowhere else to go.”

“No homeland?”

“There’s nothing for me there. There’s nothing for me in any land I know.”

“So you aim to begin again, here.”

“If I can.”

“Do you also aim to become this land’s ruler?”

“No, No I…” Ulfr’s smile turns near embarrassed. “I honestly thought the prince was lying and now I just…” he shrugs. “A strange-acting prince will cause less of a stir than a dead one, I imagine.” It certainly won’t bring about a hunt for a murderer anyway.

“True.”

“Will you help me, Grim? Survive here, remain free. I only wish to live, not rule.” The last time he thought of such a bold venture it ended terribly, he did not wish to repeat such events.

The man turns head up, smirks slightly. “You ask as if I have a choice.”

“I’m giving you the choice.” Ulfr watches as skin splits into scales at the being’s lower back. “You need to get back into the water.”

“You don’t wish to hear my answer first, Heru Ulfr?”

“It won’t change what you need. And, please, just call me Ulfr.”

“It may change what you’re willing to give….Ulfr.”

“It won’t.” He assures as he heads over to offer hand and shoulder to support weight on.

Grim eyes him, unsure. He is grateful for the man’s kindness, but it’s easy to save in the heat of the moment. It is harder to continue that kindness, harder still when your own outcome is not assured. He spent many centuries in servitude and rarely saw those of his station get something for nothing. “You’re cold to the touch,” he notes as Ulfr takes the initiative to help him up. “Are all your people this way?”

“Most are more,” Ulfr chuckles out. “I’ve learned how to control it for the most part.”

“Álfheimr summers can be quite warm, you should seek shelter then. The forests may provide cover enough. Or the lakes under the palace, they’re often used at the leisure of the king and his men.”

They move slow, but sure, back out to the pond. Grim seeming to grow more fish-like as they carry on…as if whatever magics that allow him to be the man he is are drying up with the moisture of his body. Ulfr knows some of water magic, but fears he’ll fail and make things worse. He's skilled in ice magic, true, but worries he’ll ultimately freeze him.

“Speaking of the forests…” they reach the water and Ulfr takes the silk cloak once removed; waits until the other’s in the water. “Why was the prince there today, do you know?”

Grim plummets, then resurfaces to the neck. “Afraid not, but as of late those servants unfortunate enough to join him have not returned alive. ‘Tis why I quarreled with him, he wished to bring Virtion.”

“He did.”

“Aye, he did, then you saved him.” The man smiles himself back under the water a moment, pops up to see Ulfr sitting before him. “I fear the prince is planning something traitorous, possibly with the king’s mistress. She and the prince grow ever closer, ever more secretive both together and apart.”

“They…” Ulfr considers the appropriate wording of the lands as he lays back across the ground. He wants desperately to dip and linger hand in the water, but doesn’t dare invade Grim’s space as he recovers. “Bed each other?”

“Often.” Grim smirks. “And often not only in a bed.”

He chuckles. “Hopefully not in the waters you’re currently enjoying though.”

“How dare you suggest such things before we dine!” It’s a teasing snap before he relents a laugh. “I’d like to answer your earlier question, if I may, Ulfr?”

“Go for it.”

Grim pushes up from the water to the waist, leans towards the other. “I will help you provided you continue to look after Virtion. That, when he reaches the age of maturity, you will undo his bindings and set him free.”

“I’ll do the same if I am caught.”

The smile is slightly devious. “You strike me as a clever man. I am a clever man. Working together I see no reason you’ll be caught.”

“Well, one can hope.” The Jotun’s still uncertain; he’s in a land he knows little about with a she-elf warrior already suspicious of him and the man he portrays.

”May I ask…what are you, Ulfr? Skin cold as steel, heart warm as hearth.”

The compliment sets a discomfort in Ulfr; he never feels himself a monster, but he’s no kind, softhearted, being either. “You don’t…really know me.”

“I know you saved me. You saved Virtion. And that’s more than most dare or deem.”

“I’m a Frost Giant, from Jotunheim.”

Grim knows of his kind, heard stories of their centuries of conquests and heartless nature, but he cannot see such a beast in the man before him. “I bet you look stunning as your true self.”

“I’d freeze you to death as my true self.”

“You’d be surprised what I can handle, Ulfr.”

The knock at the door comes and, regretfully, Ulfr stands and glamours himself a full, princely, outfit to answer the door. Virtion does his best to carry two large carafes of water as a young elvish maid carries in the tray of food; Ulfr must stop himself from helping either.

Once the girl leaves the three eat together by the water. Ulfr eats freely, but shares half with the page each time. Virtion only eats what Ulfr gives him directly. Grim devours goat’s head as if he were a starving man.

“Tomorrow we begin our lessons,” Grim announces, catching Ulfr by surprise. “You’ve less than a moon before King Aranwë and Lady Carfindel return…You must appear as the prince by then or you’ll surely be discovered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think both Ulfr and Grim want to trust each other, they want to bond, but it’s hard for them both. They barely know each other, there’s a strange power dynamic even beyond the simply master/servant(slave) thing, and neither of their histories exactly breed trust…They’ll need to find a good balance going forward, but I think/hope they can.
> 
> **Word Glossary (in order of usage):**
> 
> _Virtion - Virt - Slave (Qenya); -ion - son (Sindarin)_  
>  Heru - Lord, Master (Quenya)  
> Aranwë - Kingly Person (Sindarin)  
> Carfindel - Red-Haired (Sindarin) 


	11. Fascinated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How…how did he…”_

“This task is far too dangerous for a mortal such as yourself,” Thor declares with complete surety. “Ash as well. Best I go alone in search of the Loptr.”

“Right…who’s Loptr again?”

“I…I…” He’s stuck for an answer, hides ignorance in overconfident smile. “Well, Loptr is the slave I must find, of course.” Curious he’d be hunting for a being his father sold off to slavery though; he can’t possibly imagine why’d he’d defy the Allfather in such a way.

Lynk’s smirk is more sad than victorious. “What’s this slave look like?”

Thor’s face falls in his bluff successfully called. “I do not know.”

“Well, I do and Ash is the best tracker of those with any kind of abilities, period.”

“I…do not wish to be responsible for failing you. Or anyone.”

“We’re taking the responsibility upon ourselves, Thor. We know the risks and we know they can lessen with backup. Trust us, let us help you.”

“The slave planets are dangerous lands, fair Lynk.”

“So’re the underground cities and I survived them.” When Thor goes to protest again Lynk cuts him off. “You can’t do this alone no matter how much you want. Like or not, we’re coming with you, so just accept it.”

He admires her stubbornness, is touched by her dedication; she’s no reason to join him, but she insists upon doing so. “As you command, fair Lynk.” 

“Good,” lips flick up. “Now get in the van.”

“Hey wait!” A voice calls out; Thor and Lynk turn to see a man dragging something behind him. “Mr Thor, wait! You, uh…you forgot your hammer!!”

Thor stares, dumbfounded, as a slight man heaves his mighty hammer across the ground. Though not young, there is a youthfulness to the man nevertheless. An innocence of expression and childlike delight at every fraction of a centimeter he manages to pull Mjölnir along.

“Gabe, let go,” Lynk orders, her smile the gentlest Thor’s seen, and the man obeys, relieved to not have to continue. He grins, waves, and Lynk waves back before turning to the god. “Don’t you need that?”

His hand moves slow, unsure of the trick he’s just seen, but the hammer obediently flies to him.

It whizzes by so quickly Gabe nearly trips over himself to get out of the way. “Hey, can I come?” He hops down the steps towards the duo and Ash waiting in the van. “Professor X told me what you’re doing, I can help. He thinks I can help. Can I help?”

“It’s gonna be some pretty sketchy stuff, Gabe,” Lynk warns.

“I like sketchy!” He grins, already scrambling into the back of the van. “Come on, lemme come, I wanna save a god too!”

Ash sticks his head out the front passenger window. “You know you can’t possibly change his mind, might as well welcome his assistance.” And his positivity; Gabe’s near forever excited and happy, it was wonderful to be around him.

“How…how did he…” Thor remains busy examining Mjölnir, still skeptical of its authenticity. Only that who is worthy can move the mighty hammer of Thor. How did this odd little mortal manage to drag it so far? How did he manage to move it at all?

“Get in the back and ask him on the way,” Lynk offers, heading to the driver’s side.

* * * 

“This is so cool,” Gabe near giggles as Thor sits beside him in the back. “I met Mr Stark before and Dr Banner, but they’re not gods, you know? But you’re a god and it’s really neat to be meeting a god.”

“…Thank you.” Thor’s still puzzled how this man-child is capable of what should be impossible. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Sir Gabe.” He’s unsure if it is rude to ask, but cannot resist. “How is it that you managed to move Mjölnir?”

“What? Your big ol’ hammer, you mean?”

“I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s super heavy. I read only worthy people can lift it, but I didn’t really do that so…” he shrugs. “Maybe I’m just kinda worthy.”

Ash and Lynk smile to each other before Ash speaks up. “Gabe’s had little contact with the outside world until quite recently, it’s unlikely he’s done, or even thought, anything that would cause him to be considered ‘unworthy’.” It’s only a guess, but the most likely option.

It isn’t completely unbelievable to Thor, not as he looks over the other. Gabe has an utterly harmless disposition as he watches out the tinted window with fascination. Not even Thor himself holds that level of interest in Midgard anymore…yet this being could not be more awestruck by the trees and vehicles that go by.

“If Earth had gods, Gabe would probably qualify,” Lynk adds. “His powers go way beyond any of ours…including yours.”

Gabe grins back to Thor with pride. “I can fix people, it’s why I can help.”

Thor’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Fix people?”

“Biological manipulation,” Lynk clarifies. “Basically changing living things on a cellular level. Everything from basic appearance to healing a cut to resurrection…or, on the flip side, causing cancer, disease, or death.”

“I don’t like doing that stuff,” Gabe pouts; he hasn’t since last made to by those who’d raised him, but the memories still haunt. “I’d much rather fix people.”

“Well…” Thor smiles bright. “I am pleased to have a powerful and heroic man such as yourself by my side on this mission, Sir Gabe!”

“Aww, thanks.” Gabe almost blushes at the god’s words. Not everyday does one of your heroes compliment you.

Thor nods confirmation of his words and turns forward. “Fair Lynk…” - Ash side-eyes Lynk with a smile, to which she rolls hers - “Where are we destined?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D..”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? I…I must confess, I doubt they will be much help on this mission. Stark himself refuses to answer the call.”

“We’re not having them join us, we’re going to use one of their captured ships.”

“I do not think they will allow us the use of one.”

“Good thing we’re not asking then.”

Thor can’t decide if he’s alarmed or impressed. “You aim for us to steal a ship, fair Lynk?”

“The Bifrost’s not an option.” Lynk begins to text furiously. “I’m sure the ship won’t mind, they long for a good adventure rather than being stuck in a bay to be dismantled and studied.”

“And to think, this morning my only concern was helping Kurt with perfecting his location precision during teleportation,” Ash quips.

“Yeah, and now we’re gonna steal a spaceship and save an enslaved god…it’s great!” Gabe delights, diving into his backpack. “Hey, does anyone wanna PopTart? I gotta bunch!” He opens a pack even as Ash and Lynk decline; undeterred Gabe turns to Thor. “You want one? They’re strawberry with the sprinkled frosting.”

Thor smiles, taking the offered treat. “Thank you, Gabe.” While he can’t imagine this man being any help in the heat of battle, Thor finds him rather endearing nevertheless.

“You’re welcome!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you’ve met Gabe…which rounds out Thor’s main crew in this, haha! …You’ll learn more of his past going forward, which might explain why he’s able to move Mjölnir and a childlike mentality.


	12. Transported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m doing this.”_

Lynk gets out with a sigh at Tony’s face. “I didn’t tell you so you could try and stop me.”

“Then I guess that was your mistake,” he snips back, hiding fear under anger. “You’re going to get yourself killed. All of you.”

“That’s what Gabe’s coming for.”

“You think this is funny?”

“No, I think it’s important.”

“Tony…” Thor steps out, hoping to quell the man’s rage.

“Don’t even, Point Break, I’m not in the mood.” Not in the mood to hear how sure Thor is that Loki’s in trouble and must be saved. What Thor wants to do is his business, but Lynk…Lynk is someone Tony’s grown protective of and he isn’t about to let her go off and get herself killed for some psycho god.

“I’m not letting Thor go alone,” Lynk insists.

“Like you said, that’s what Gabe’s for.”

“I’m doing this.”

So are Gabe and Ash as they exit the vehicle; Gabe excitedly says “hi” to Tony, then pouts when ignored. Ash whispers in his ear and the man perks up once again before going to look at the ships. Ash keeps an emotional line to him even as he senses Tony’s roiling terror.

“You don’t know what’s waiting for you up there. I’ve seen it, I’ve seen what the universe has to offer and it…it’s…” he can’t even think of it, let alone speak. “Lynk, if something goes sideways I can’t reach you…can’t protect you.”

“You trust Thor with your life, right? So trust him with mine. I do.“ She grows challenging. “Now are you going to stand in our way or help us, like I asked?”

Tony goes silent, thinking, but also stalling. Foolishly hoping one of the others will step in; that Thor will finally concede bringing Lynk and the others only puts them in danger. But Ash keeps focus on Gabe and Thor remains silent as Tony.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Lynk speaks up again. “And you know it. If you’re really concerned for me, for us, you’ll help now and worry later.”

Tony looks beyond his protégé to Thor. “If anything happens to her, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“I understand, my friend, as will I.”

He doesn’t say another word, only heads farther into the ship bay with the rest following. Parts of him think to join, if only to ensure Lynk and the other’s safety, but he simply can’t bring himself to make the offer. Make the decision. Every time he opens his mouth to speak images of what he saw in the tear of the universe rushes back, steals his voice and bravery from him.

“Mr Stark,” Ash approaches as Gabe’s interest focuses on Thor and his proclaimed expertise in the various alien ships. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony sighs, then reasserts. “But you’re not going to change my mind. You guys are on a possible suicide mission and I’m can’t just stand by and let it happen!”

“I know, I understand, I do,” the other reassures, putting up hands from the waves of frustration coming off Stark. “I imagine you’ve access to all the ships if you wished it though, yes?” He nods when Tony does. “Well, if you continue to push, you and I both know Lynk could block that access and I don’t believe either of you truly want that. With those communications open, however, you could give us aid in the manner of advice and support.”

“You think she’ll let me?” Tony’s scoffing, but hopeful.

“I do, yes. In fact, I know it. She admires you, Mr Stark, and wants you to be proud of her. It’s a big part of why she’s willing to help Thor now…because it’s something you might do.” Ash smiles softly. “Insist she keep in touch with you, that she and Thor allow your input even while you remain here. And, should something go wrong, you’ll be informed and ready to give any aid you can immediately.”

It sounds good, but… “That’s not enough.”

“Then perhaps you’ll think of something more?” Ash gives a knowing smile, but no suggestions as Thor declares a ship.

“Please something discreet, small, easily maneuverable…nothing Chitauri, for the love of god,” Tony mutters as he and Ash go in search of him and others.

“We’ll take the Skrull fighter,” Thor smiles at a taser-looking ship. “Skrull’s are known to work in the slave trade, few dare to provoke them, and this ship seems to have both its defenses and offenses intact.”

“You wanna take a fighter jet on a rescue mission?” Lynk gives a wary look; even in confirming with the ship itself that all parts are in working order she’s not sure of the choice. Things built to fight tend to want to do just that.

“If we activate the peace signals no one should engage us.”

Lynk glances back to Tony knowing Thor isn’t doing much to set his mind at ease. In truth, he isn’t doing much to set hers at ease either. She wants to help, is determined to, but now that time’s closing in she grows unsure. Nervous. “You should come with us, Tony.”

“I can’t. I want to, I just…” It feels like the world’s caving in on him whenever he even thinks of it.

“It’s fine. I know.” Lynk takes a deep breath, crossing arms.

Tony nods before calling to Thor as the god goes to lower the main ramp. “You sure you want this one? You’re going with mortals, Earth-folk, you need to make sure they can survive on this thing too.”

“It will be no trouble, Tony, I assure you.”

Gabe dashes in excitedly as Ash hurries after him, Thor close behind to double check his assurances. To double check he can fly the ship properly.

Lynk sighs. “I should get it started up, doubt we have much time left.” Before S.H.I.E.L.D. figures out they’re not visiting, but scouring for a ship to take.

“Mm, yeah…” Tony fiddles with his watch. “Probably just enough time for me to give you…” He hands it over. “This. It’s a prototype, but better than nothing. If you feel in danger, unsure, use it…if anyone can make it work straight off, it’s you.”

“Thanks.” Even in just holding it she can feel the tech speaking to her. Showing her how it should work, where she might need to adjust. She slips it on and feels protected. Like Tony’s with her; his heart in the watch.

“Be careful. Keep in touch.”

“I will.” She senses the ship behind her grow frustrated with Thor’s attempts to start it so starts the fighter’s engines herself. Security alarms throughout the bay immediately sound. “Time to go.”

“Yeah.” Then Tony did something wholly unexpected to both of them. He pulled her in, wrapped arms around her, and held her tight. “Please, please, be careful.”

Lynk’s briefly stunned by the gesture, but returns the hug after a moment. “I will, don’t worry.” She pulls back, smiles awkwardly. “Try not to promote any breakthroughs before I can double-check them, yeah?”

“And risk falling flat on my million dollar face?” Tony hides nerves in cocky smile. “I don’t think so.”

With a sad smile and nod Lynk turns from her mentor to run up the closing ramp. Taking deep breathes to clear her mind she coaxes the ship off the ground before even reaching the cockpit. “Thor, work up a small storm. Something to give us cover from onlookers and get people thinking twice about following us.”

Thor moves to the copilot’s seat, already clouding the sky, awestruck by her powers and natural leadership. “Is Tony well?”

“As well as he can be,” she touches the controls, the steering knob. “Buckle up, guys!” The words are mainly for Gabe, a signal for adventure that has him scrambling to buckle every part of his seat he can manage.

Tony stands back as the main doors to the bay open and other docked ships roar to life, moving aside for the Skrull fighter. There are times when Lynk amazes him…this is one of them. He only looks away as boots slam across the floor and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents led by Fury and Nat flood in.

“What the fuck?!” Fury wastes no time or pleasantries as soldiers fire at the departing ship; Nat leaps into a nearby helicopter with a pilot.

“Oh, hey, Nat, yeah, no…no no, it’s not…” Tony can’t hide his smile as, of course, it doesn’t start. Doesn’t even pretend to. And, after another minute, Nat climbs out.

“Why didn’t you stop them, Stark?”

“I tried.”

Fury’s gaze turns hard on him. “How?”

“I told them not to go,” Tony shrugs, to which Nat rolls her eyes. “Hey, I’m sure they’ll bring it back in one piece…or, you know, relatively one piece, not sure how good of a pilot Thor is to be honest. He’s a shitty driver though, I’ll tell you that, took me a whole day to fix the damage he did to my Ferrari that one time, but hey, live and learn, am I right?” He rambles, eating up time for the ship to leave their atmosphere.

“Where are they going?” Nat questions, mind racing with interception plans.

“Well, it’s a spaceship so, if I had to guess…”

“Goddamnit, Tony!” Fury snaps, getting on his comms-link only to find it not working either. “Motherfucker!!”

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of the collar Loki wears (a thrall collar) comes from the works of [EndlessStairway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway).


End file.
